


8 Ways to Say I Love You

by fandammit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, set post S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7275739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandammit/pseuds/fandammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a searing heat in his chest every time he looks at Abby’s throat - the deep purple and blue, the angry red indent; evidence of how close he came to a fruitless, futile sacrifice. He gently moves the curling ends of her hair so they trail down her back, exhales the words softly into the crown of her head so that not even his breath will find its way over her bruised neck. <br/>----------------------<br/>All the different ways Marcus tells Abby he loves her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	8 Ways to Say I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration taken from poem of the same name by R. McKinley, written in Thought Catalog.

1\. He knows that the wounds on his wrists burn, the skin pulling and twisting with every twitch of his fingers. The pain seems separate from him, though - as if his wrists and hands belong to someone else. Instead there is a searing heat in his chest every time he looks at Abby’s throat - the deep purple and blue, the angry red indent; evidence of how close he came to a fruitless, futile sacrifice. He gently moves the curling ends of her hair so they trail down her back, exhales the words softly into the crown of her head so that not even his breath will find its way over her bruised neck. 

2\. She falls asleep on the car ride back to Arkadia. Her body is folded in on itself, back hunched away from him. She makes herself small enough to fit crouched in the corner of the backseat. When they jolt over a jagged hole in the road, she shudders awake, eyes wide with panic and confusion. He calls her name softly, waits for her to find a way back to him. He pulls her gently over until she’s resting against his shoulder. The steady drone of the engine lulls her to sleep. He murmurs it before he shuts his eyes, wonders if she’ll only remember it as a dream when she wakes. 

3\. He’s drunk in a way he doesn’t ever remember being. Can’t recall if the shared moonshine around the campfire had been for celebration or forgetting; decides it was probably for both and finds he’s ok with that. He slurs the words to her - he thinks - after he walks her to her room and before she shuts the door fully. The next morning, he wakes to screaming light and a cringing heart. Waits to see if she’ll mention it. Hopes she doesn’t. (Wishes she would.) 

4\. Her blood is on his hands, her last breath a scream in his ears and - he wakes. It’s not blood on his hands, only sweat. The breath in his ear is her voice, small and pleading, whispering his name over and over, exhorting him to wake up. He opens his eyes to hers, his vision clouded and unsettled. He wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her hair, says it in a shaky exhale of relief. He’s still for a moment and lays silent in her arms. Maybe he’s still half asleep. Maybe she’ll think so, too.

5\. It’s late and his eyes are tired from reading over endless documents on nuclear reactors. Abby is a small, warm presence in his arms, breath even and sure. He wishes he could find that sort of peace. There are literally a hundred different ways it all could all go wrong the next day, and a very small margin for complete success. Maybe he should - all thoughts stop when he feels Abby’s lips against the pulse point on his neck. He shifts his head to meet her eyes. She tips her head up and presses her lips to his. He breathes the words into her mouth, lets them graze across the rise of her lips and slide against her tongue.

6\. For once, everything’s gone right. A cheer rises up from the small army it took to dismantle the now steaming reactor. He turns just as she launches herself into his arms, her enthusiasm lifting her off the ground completely. He throws his head back and laughs, spins her around like they’ve gone twenty years back in time. She shrieks in his ear, laughs, and grabs tightly onto the back of his shirt. Just before he sets her down, it slips out - stuck between a laugh and a sigh. She’s still laughing when her feet hit the ground, but her eyes sparkle in a way that makes him wonder if his words managed to fall through anyway.

7\. He’s soaked in sweat, but his entire body feels cold. She stumbles towards him and collapses into his arms; they don’t fall, but they drift gently downward like the grey ash of other people’s sacrifice. He waits until he stops shaking, until he realizes that he doesn’t have to live in a world without her after all. Tells her in a trembling sigh as she whispers his name over and over again, gripping him tightly in her arms.

8\. Peace is a word that’s only been a dream since he landed on the ground. Safe is a concept that he hasn’t known since his forefathers fled from it. Yet both are reality, now. She’s drinking tea and the sun is setting, a far off plume of steam the only evidence of the hard work wrought for this moment. He looks at her and feels the steady thrum of his heartbeat tapping out the words.

“I love you,” he says, the words clear and bright in the dim light of dusk.

She smiles at him and reaches for his hand, ducks her head to brush her lips over their crisscrossed thumbs before she gives voice to a thousand different dreams and hopes and wishes -

“I love you, too.” 


End file.
